Last week I finished reading Jodi Piccoult’s book, Small Great Things. I set it aside several times, pausing to read other books that were less disruptive. The book centers on the relationship between two ordinary women – Ruth Jefferson, a black nurse on trial for the death of a baby in her care (a baby whose parents are white supremacists), and Kennedy McQuarrie, the white public defender seeking Ruth’s acquittal.
As horrifying as it was to read about the violence and hatred of white nationalist subculture, I comforted myself with the belief that at least I wasn’t racist like them. While racism in this extreme form certainly exists today, as evidenced by incidents like last summer’s Charlottesville riot, for me, the most disturbing form of racism Piccoult addressed was seen in the everyday occurrences many of us don’t want to believe are real.
Sociologist Peggy McIntosh named this more covert form of racism “white privilege.” She writes, “I was taught to see racism only in individual acts of meanness, not in invisible systems conferring dominance on my group. I have come to see white privilege as an invisible package of unearned assets that I can count on cashing in each day, but about which I was ‘meant’ to remain oblivious.”
The last part of that statement really got to me, naming the reality that I, as a white woman, have been conditioned to ignore the inequalities in a system that grants me advantages and places others who are not white at a disadvantage.
The difficult truth is that I participate in and benefit from systemic racism every single day.
Feeling compelled to educate myself more on these disturbing ideas, I spent the next few days reading about racism and prejudice, took several versions of implicit bias tests at Harvard’s Project Implicit and began rethinking my own experiences. The defensive part of me wanted to protest that my family has been intentional in welcoming and loving others not like us: our son, daughter-in-law, and beautiful grandchildren are as dark black as we are pale white. Our decision to become foster parents came from a desire to give our children a more expansive definition of love. We wanted to provide safety and nurture for refugees who’d been harmed and displaced as a result of war in their native Sudan.
18 years later, I would tell you that our desire was good, and it was also naïve. We thought that if we provided a safe home and family for these boys who had experienced profound trauma, it would be enough…and it was, for a time. There was a brief window when Samuel and James told us they felt like they were in heaven. Eventually, the reality of cultural differences, challenges with education, and the tension of living in a place they didn’t fully belong all became too much. Then we heard that America was hell, and that we’d brought them here to be our slaves.
Chris and I spent countless hours in frustrating conversations where they expressed nothing but criticism and disillusionment. I remember saying at the end of one of those particularly long talks something to the effect of “You aren’t in Africa anymore, you’re in America…so you’re going to have to learn to do things the way we do them here.”
It’s painful to admit that yes, I really did say that; I really did believe they should be more grateful for the opportunities we’d given them for a better life. While I do believe that experience changed our family in profound ways, moving us several clicks forward from the overtly prejudiced culture I grew up in, I’m also aware of how far there is yet to go.
I am ashamed to admit that as a wealthy, white, middle-aged woman, it’s been easier to play the part of benevolent savior than to simply listen to the experiences of black women, or risk uncomfortable conversations with other white women about the ways we benefit from our privileged position. With that privilege comes power, and this week, I’ve been reminded of the importance of using the power I have for good – even if I didn’t ask for it.
Will you join me?
If you’re not sure where to start, check out the bias tests at Project Implicit to learn objective facts about your biases, free of judgment.
Also, read Peggy McIntosh’s paper, “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.”The text contains a wealth of insight and numerous examples of how white privilege impacts everyday settings and includes effective conversation starters for group settings, some of which would be perfect around a Red Tent Dinner table.
For further reading, check out the books America’s Original Sin by Jim Wallis and White Like Me by Tim Wise.
Learn more about how you can actively pursue racial unity at Be The Bridge.
Janet Stark is a woman learning to bless her depth and sensitivity. She is grateful for the deep love she shares with her husband, Chris and their kids and grandkids. Janet loves curling up with a good book, trying new recipes on her friends and family, and enjoying long conversations with friends over a cup of really good coffee. She is a life-long lover of words and writes about her experiences here.
Thank you for your honesty….. when I was in high school in th 70’s in the south… we had a huge race riot at our school… this past summer some of us gathered to celebrate turning 60 and we talked about our experience… how there was no one to help us as teenager process and help all of us to move in a more positive direction. One friend had saved the papers from that time… as we read the articles… it was horrifying … infuriating and absolutely heart breaking… and it became clear… there were no one to help us because most of the people were steeped in racism. And for me … it is layers… I don’t bristle when I hear white privileged as I did in the past… but I see I had absorbed so much … spoken and unspoken from being raised in the 60-70”s … that I need to be reminded… over and over… so as you said… I can truly listen… just listen without any thing rising in my heart execpet love and compassion.
I have just started to read… Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson… so many people have recommended this book… I am looking forward to being challenged as I read!!!
Again… thanks for being that voice of reminder to me today!!!
Ro, I feel like I can echo so many of your experiences, particularly about those surrounding me being steeped in racism – both spoken and unspoken. Your words about “absorbing so much” feel accurate. I hear the sadness in the reality that there was no one to help you as a young teenager process the violence and hatred you witnessed. And I love that you and your friends are talking about it today, and are facing the heartbreak honestly! Just Mercy is excellent, it was one of the first I read that began to challenge much of what I had thought couldn’t be true anymore in our country. Thank you for joining in the desire to be reminded and a heart to truly listen.
Janet, thank you for this call to open our eyes and hearts to the many unspoken prejudices held — unseen and unaddressed—of white privilege. It is a heart wrenching reality that I have skirted but refused to enter. I will, I will, I will do differently.
Christine, I am with you in how difficult it has felt to enter. And I believe you have much kindness, insight, and courage to bring to the table. ❤️
I echo Ro. Living through race riots in our dorm in 1972 at The Ohio State University there was no resolve. None that I recall. I am sad that I did not seek understanding through literature and Black Studies courses, because the adults around me offered nothing. I recommend Just Mercy, Between the World and Me, At The Dark End of The Street, Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome, White Rage, Without Sanctuary, and countless films, Rosewood (Florida) being just one. Thank you Janet for honest writing and conversation starter. You have awakened me this morning with your challenge to own our white privilege and actually…do something.
Becky, the experience of race riots as a college student must have been frightening, and certainly confusing when the adults weren’t helping to understand. Just Mercy was one of the first books I read that broke my heart over the racism I had no idea is still so prevalent in the legal system. Thanks for more recommendations as well…its a little overwhelming (but I think in a good way) navigating the number of resources to educate myself…and so important. I’m reminded of Maya Angelou’s great line about “when you know better, do better.” We can do better.
Your words are bold and humble. Privilege is real. The hard work is in calling it out to our white sisters and really listening to our sisters of color. It takes courage to enter the grief, and boldness to name it. As a foster/adoptive mom of Mexican boys I resonate with all these conversations. 💜
Agreed, courage and boldness are necessary…and it is long past time for us to exercise them. Your family’s life is such an inspiring example in the way you have continually stepped into this arena with humility and a willingness to sacrifice. ❤️